


Shared Solitude

by cappucinohanzo



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Clubbing, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, body image issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 11:23:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12530216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cappucinohanzo/pseuds/cappucinohanzo
Summary: It really can’t be that hard, finding someone who’s willing to look past the exterior. Gods - he’s never had that problem before. A year ago, when he went out to a club, all he had to do was smile. Now... the neon flashes inside reflect back from the exposed parts of his body. He doesn’t really have any clothes to go clubbing with, just a lazy black wide-collared shirt with half-sleeves and the pair of relaxed-looking training sweatpants where the Overwatch logo just barely vanishes underneath the hem of his shirt. That’s the last thing he needs to show, really; on top of being a goddamn cyborg, he doesn’t need to look like an UN agent, too. Well... at least the women don’t need to know that part. He’d conceal the other, too, if could, but in terms of what he’s after - it’s probably better they can see, smell and hear it coming. Talk about awkward surprises after the clothes come off - finding out your partner’s mostly made of metal alloys and tubes has to rank amongst the worst.





	Shared Solitude

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think the playboy in Genji died a quick, painless death. Just saying.

* * *

 

Even in the shade, being out like this scares him. Genji shifts against the building, out of the way of a passing scooter, and lets out a breath.

 _You promised yourself,_ he reminds himself; _You have to at least try._

His eyes visit the sign outside the club. The air is wet and salty, and even here in the midst of the city, Gibraltar smells like the ocean. From inside the bars and clubs lining up the street, other scents mix in - fish and chips, for the main part - but he’s not here to eat. Not to drink, either, although in that aspect... mistakes might be made.

Shivering, he steps back on the street, crosses it, and passes the bouncer with an anxious smile on his face. The bouncer looks him up and down, then nods hesitantly before turning away. He’s got the courtesy not to stare, but the same can’t be said for most others. Being out in public... it’s not the first time, but it sure is the first time he’s alone, and the first time, really, that he’s there for, well, what he’s there for.

It really can’t be that hard, finding someone who’s willing to look past the exterior. Gods - he’s never had _that_ problem before. A year ago, when he went out to a club, all he had to do was smile. Now... the neon flashes inside reflect back from the exposed parts of his body. He doesn’t really have any clothes to go clubbing with, just a lazy black wide-collared shirt with half-sleeves and the pair of relaxed-looking training sweatpants where the Overwatch logo just barely vanishes underneath the hem of his shirt. That’s the last thing he needs to show, really; on top of being a goddamn cyborg, he doesn’t need to look like an UN agent, too. Well... at least the women don’t need to know that part. He’d conceal the other, too, if could, but in terms of what he’s after - it’s probably better they can see, smell and hear it coming. Talk about awkward surprises after the clothes come off - finding out your partner’s mostly made of metal alloys and tubes has to rank amongst the worst.

Still, he can’t help but run his palm over the exposed plating of his other arm as he slips into a bar stool and lets out another deep exhale. The bartender lifts his brows at him, then seems to catch himself staring, and turns away again. Genji’s teeth run the soft expanse of his artificial lower lip through, biting down on it before releasing again - well, the guy doesn’t seem too keen on serving him, so at least avoiding the alcohol should be easy. With his heart racing, he turns to look around. The girls here sure look different from back home. They’re taller, wider, paler; not really what he’s used to. Pretty, though. Probably out of his league these days, but a guy’s gotta try at least. At first, his eyes set on a smaller girl; she’s around his age, maybe 23, a bit on the heavier side, dressed in a soft-looking loose dress and a pair of metallic leggings. Her hair’s half-shaved, the rest of it a dyed black with a blue streak, but just when he’s decided that she’s the one, a man emerges from the crowd and kisses her. Genji looks him over, too, as he waits for the vague sense of disappointment to fade - he’s not gonna ask for a threesome, he thinks to himself with a crooked grimace as he turns away from them. The guy really doesn’t look the type.

For the next two minutes, he dwells on how pathetic it is that he’s come from making these jokes to an audience of three at smallest to chuckling at them under his breath completely alone, and for a second, the pain that flashes across his chest makes him tense up. He still can’t really trust these things - whether an ache, a sting, or a pins and needles sensation is related to something utterly ordinary, or if it’s a sign that his body’s collapsing around him again. This pain, however, seems to pass, and he discards it as nothing but heartache. That, unfortunately, he’s got a lot of these days too.

”Can I get you something?”

Genji can’t deny being surprised at the voice. At first, he doesn’t register it as being aimed at himself at all, but when the shadow looming between him and the light illuminating the shelves in front of him doesn’t pass, he finally lifts his gaze. The bartender still looks like he’s not really sure what he’s looking at, but Genji disregards that. His eyes shift towards the woman sitting to his left, and really, what’s the worst that can happen? He really doesn’t know who could possibly be into him like this, so what does it matter who he tries his luck with? She’s cute, with long blonde hair mostly cascading freely upon her bare shoulders if not for the thick braid on the side. She’s got a pointy, pierced nose, and the flick of her tongue across her lips shows that she’s nervous, too. Why not her?

”Whatever you’d recommend,” Genji speaks, his eyes still over the girl’s shape; ”for me and her.”

She lifts her gaze, the lights of the bar’s shelf reflecting from the bright blue or green of her eyes - it’s impossible to say for sure which colour it really is in the dim atmosphere. Slowly, she turns to look at him, her eyes squinting even as a small, daring smile crosses her lips.

”Who even are you?” she asks as the bartender places a glass in front of her.

Genji slips his elbow onto the bar and leans his jaw against the plated back of his mechanical hand. He tries to convince himself the grin he’s got on him is confident, but inside, he’s all cold and shaky and trying to fight the tears that are all too eager to wet his lashes out of sheer nerves.

”An unsightly stranger offering a drink to a cute girl,” he says with a chuckle, ”If you want to pass just let me know, I promise I won’t leave you with the bill.”

She considers it. She seems curious, at least, which eases up the tension building inside Genji. He lets her look, even though the way her eyes catch onto the exposed metal of his body make him all too conscious of every seam and scar that marks the transition - he tried to hide most of it, but when his whole body is nothing but, some still shows.

”Not... unsightly,” she finally answers, her eyes moving back up to his, ”Just odd.”

”I’ll take that,” Genji chuckles, ”Name’s Genji, hi, and yes, I’m a cyborg, in case you were wondering.”

Well, that’s out of the way.

”I can see that,” she says - her voice, too, is trying hard to be confident, but she’s never been in this situation before.

Yet still, she’s interested.  
She’s really interested.

”Thanks for the drink, Genji.”

”No problem.”

Her drink is pale pink. It comes with a cherry. His drink, on the other hand, is clear, and he’s not entirely sure what he’s having when he brings it to his lips. When he drinks it, he can _feel_ the universe bending and touching his doctor gently over the back of her neck, sending all that fine, blonde hair there standing straight up. She’d kill him for this, just for taking a single sip. All that time she spent fixing his organs, and he’s pouring plain alcohol into them, as if they weren’t struggling to keep up with plain soups and water. Well, if he dies to a night out, so be it. Science may yet benefit from the autopsy Doctor Ziegler will get to perform on him later.

”May I have your name?” he asks, forcing his thoughts away from the team that’ll tear him a new one in the morning for slipping away like this.

”May. Uh - my name's May."

”Nice. I can pronounce that.”

She laughs. Then, after hesitating between movement and stillness for a visible moment, she switches seats closer to him and spins around until her knees nearly touch his. She gives his face a proper look now that his body isn’t distracting her anymore, and he doesn’t move when she carefully lifts her fingers to touch a scar over his cheekbone.

”Ran into a blade a couple times,” Genji tries to joke with a crooked grin, his head tilting, ”Thought it’d make me look tougher.”

”Well, you do look tough.”

”It’s not all for show, either; punching me would probably hurt you more than it would hurt me.”

She laughs again.  
”I don’t doubt that.”

After sipping her drink, she grows serious again, however. He follows her gaze as it moves from one scar to another, her fingertips trailing down the shape of his reinforced and partially replaced jaw up to the frames covering his temples and the back and sides of his skull.

”Did it happen during the war?” she asks, her eyes - green, definitely - looking into his now.

”No. I fear that it was more personal than that.”

”Oh.”

Genji shifts; he brings his glass up to his lips again and this time, despite the petrol-like burn of the alcohol in his mouth, takes a mouthful and downs it to drown the bitterness left behind by the subject. Then he forces himself to smile again; he’s used to it by now, to covering up the way this all makes him feel. There’s nothing else he can do.

”So, how about you? Unlike me, _you_ don’t look like you dove into a pool of sharks. What’s your secret?”

It gets a soft giggle out of her. Genji lifts his organic hand and brushes her hair back from her face, catching it behind her ear with the smile on him softening; she welcomes the touch, even though it seems to make her shy.

”I did dive into a pool of sharks once,” she tells him, measuring discreetly whether her answer amuses him or not, ”Though I did have a cage around me then.”

”Oh. Clever,” Genji chuckles, drawing back and leaning into the bar again to watch her, ”Isn’t it like a reverse zoo where the sharks are the guests and you’re the animal?”

”I’ve never thought about it that way,” she says, grinning.  
Despite the joking tone of the conversation, she’s withdrawing again; having second thoughts, concerns, doubts. He waits, letting her come through with them. In a while, she does.  
”So, don’t take this as - I don’t wanna be rude or anything."

”Hey, I’m an open book,” he says, even though he really isn’t; he’s more tightly locked than a vacuum-sealed coffin.

”I know what you’re after,” she tells him, her eyes now sharper than before as she looks him over once more, still as uncertain of what to make of him as when they started talking, ”It’s not that I’m not interested, I just don’t know if I’m the right person for you.”

”Right.”

 _It’s not you, it’s me,_ Genji translates. He sips his drink and tries to keep breathing, but his eyes escape her shape now, turn towards the rows of bottles behind the bar.

”It just - doesn’t look like... I mean, you look cool and you seem really nice, but it’s like your body’s mostly... I mean...”

”It is,” Genji confirms, his eyes still on the shelves, and fuck, they sting now, too.  
He blinks rapidly to keep the wetness from showing up, but the pressure at the back of his throat doesn't lift.

”So... I just think it might be too much like... trying to do it with an omnic. Don’t take that badly, I mean, some people are into that, but I’m - not sure if I’m one of them.”

This time, all he manages is a nod. There’s a strange, burning sensation in the bottom of his stomach, like acid flooding the nooks and crooks of his system.

”I’m sorry,” she says, and she sounds the part; ”That’s probably really insensitive. I don’t mean to be mean. I really think you’re cute, Genji, it’s just - I’m here for something else.”

”That’s -”  
Genji swallows, his head halting within the first inch of a shake before turning towards her. He smiles, surprised at how well he’s holding it together despite the now quite apparent hole that all that acid has created in the pit of his belly, and although his breath shakes a little, he doesn’t think she can hear it from the music.  
”- fine. Hey, like I said; it’s up to you, I was just trying my luck.”

”No hard feelings?” she asks, her voice - gods, is that pity?

He swallows his grimace and hears himself laugh instead.  
”No hard feelings - and like I promised, I’m still paying for that drink.”

She looks relieved. He doesn’t feel the part. In fact, the more he thinks about it, the less he feels anything at all. What’s there to feel? Disappointment, when he knew already what the end result of going out would be? Hurt - because of what? A girl doesn’t want to get in a cyborg's bed? What did he expect?

Her smile turns towards the drink and she empties it, ending the conversation. Genji does the same.

”Good luck, Genji,” she says, and his smile hurts his mouth.

”You too, shark girl.”

Outside, the wind has picked up. It still smells of seaweed as Genji collapses in the shadow between two buildings, hugs his metallic knees up to his chest and lets himself fall apart.

 

* * *

 

”Athena?” Genji calls out in the tunnel.  
The ID reader’s green light buzzes warmly as he presses his fingertips into the circle.

”Genji Shimada. Welcome back to the Watchpoint. It is quite late,” Athena’s voice echoes in the tunnel - it makes the white lights buried into the cave’s walls shiver.

He smiles wearily in the direction of the ID reader’s camera, the salty tracks over his cheeks stiff now that the air has dried the tears from his face. He wipes his face to his sleeve once more, but his eyes still feel puffy.

”I want to know if anyone’s still awake. Anyone at all,” he explains.

”Doctor Ziegler is still working in the medical bay. Would you like me to let her know that you are coming?”

”Please.”

”I will turn on the lights for you. Good night, Genji.”

”Thank you, Athena. Good night.”

The night is warm and moist and quiet now that he’s out of the mountain, facing the vastness of the ocean with the dark shoreline of Morocco looming past the star-lit expanse around him. His way up to the medical bay is accompanied by nothing but the white noise of waves crashing against the rock and his own soft steps over the concrete, and as promised, Athena has turned on the lights all over his path but everywhere else is very dark, as if abandoned; inside there somewhere, a whole crew is sleeping. Genji lets out a silent thank you towards the sky when he enters the corridor leading up to Doctor Ziegler that she’s as insomniac and workaholic as always, even if meeting her now only means getting lectured.

She rolls around in her chair when he enters. The medical bay here has always looked welcoming to him - it’s small and decorated with living plants in pots that hover quietly above their basins that power up the green patterns of lights etched into their sides. He’s spent quite a long while here, bed-bound and bored, but it never became a prison for him. Even now, a sense of solace seems to reach him there. A lot of painful memories concentrate there, but also memories of healing, of slowly-blooming friendships between him and his new associates all began in this room, and he can’t feel as angry at the medical bay as he feels at the world at whole. After all, at least here, he’s sometimes still felt... wanted.

”Where the hell have you been?”

Genji opens his mouth, draws in some air, and then simply lets himself deflate. He shrugs, with a new layer of tears suddenly in his eyes, and he looks away from Doctor Ziegler, whose small breath catches his sensitive ears from across the room. She stands up from her chair and walks to him, her fingertips touching the side of his jaw gently as she turns him towards her, examining his face with concern.

”You smell of alcohol.”

”I may have had some, Doctor Ziegler.”

”Gods, Genji.”  
She sighs.  
”What happened?”

”I did something stupid,” he says, his breath hitching, ”and I think - I need a friend right now.”

Her expression turns for compassion, but it’s not the pitying kind: she doesn’t know how to pity, only how to reflect emotion from her own soul back to another’s. Her fingers leave his face and she pulls him into a gentle hug instead, and he rests against her, thankful for once that the woman’s nearly his size so that he can simply lean into her and feel as small and tired as he does now. Exhaustion doesn’t really even cut it, but it’s not the late hour that does it. No; he fears that not even a twelve-hour sleep will fix this kind of drain. All he wants is to close his eyes and never wake up again.

”Then you've come to the right place,” Doctor Ziegler tells him, cutting him off his thoughts; her hand presses into his hair and her cheek turns warm and soft against the plating on the side of his head.  
”Whatever this is about, I’m happy that you didn’t want to keep it to yourself.”

He sniffs pathetically, his fingers bending around her soft, thin sweater as he buries his face into her shoulder and lets the waves of pain run him through. She’s got a good grip on her as her arms press against his body throughout their length; she knows how to embrace him with all that she’s got, and that kind of wholeness is exactly what he needs. They stand there for a good long while, with the radio station filling in the silence between them at a quiet volume. Outside, when Genji looks through the windows that form the outer walls of the room, the horizon already shows the very first signs of breaking dawn.

”Do you want to talk about it?” Doctor Ziegler asks him as he steps back, her hold of him falling apart.

He shakes his head, knowing well that a doctor, if anyone, should hear the things going through his mind right now, but he just doesn’t have what it takes to repeat them nor describe the pain and humiliation he feels. To his surprise, a yawn breaks through, and he covers it up with the side of his arm, shaking.

She smiles at him, then breaks into a yawn herself.

”You know what?” she says in a tired voice, her eyes seeking out the white-and-mint couch by the wall, ”I think what we both need is a nap until breakfast is served.”

”I... would agree,” Genji replies slowly, his gaze following hers, ”but I am not very fond of the thought of going back in one of these beds, and - if you don’t mind, I would rather not be alone right now, either.”

”Oh, no, I’m not thinking about either of those things. I understand how you feel, and even if you wanted to be left alone, I am not quite sure I would be comfortable letting you go just yet. No - I was thinking that we might just both fit on the couch, and I’ve got a couple itchy blankets stored around in here just for this purpose so that I don’t have to wrap up in something that smells like a hospital every time I want to get some rest. You see, I am not very fond of the beds myself,” she explains, smirking to him conspiratorily.

It makes him feel better somehow, and he nods, a shaky smile on his own lips as well.

”I promise you you will feel better in the morning,” Doctor Ziegler continues, ”and I will come down to eat with you, so you don’t have to start the day alone. How’s that sound?”

”I would like that, Angela.”

”Then it is settled. Let me get the blankets, and some pillows for us both.”

He watches her go and vanish almost entirely inside a closet on the other side of the room. As she digs through it, he pushes himself forwards and heads for the couch, and only when he lets himself fall on it does he realise how badly his body, too, needs the rest. His head has been so wrapped up in the void that seems to slowly consume him from the inside out that the fact that his energy levels have dropped down to nothing appears to have completely missed him. Now, however, all he can think of is just how desperately he wants to sleep - if not for the whole of eternity, as he suspects it might be difficult to simply slip away under Doctor Ziegler’s watch, then at least until breakfast as offered.

Doctor Ziegler returns with a yellow, flower-patterned blanket under one arm, and a sky-blue one under the other, stuck there with three or so pillows that seem just about to fall from her grip when she throws them on the bed next to him.

”Which one would you like?” she asks, and his eyes draw towards the blue one, a sudden hollow sensation behind his ribs as he looks at it.

He can feel his heart beating all the way in his ear canals, and adrenaline pushes into his veins, but he reaches a shaky hand for it regardless and Angela drops it for him, unaware of the way his heart is drumming away at his framework. He shakes when he pulls the blanket against himself, hides his feet underneath it, and sets one of the oversized pillows between himself and the arm rest. He curls up against it and finds a good pose to relax into, and slowly, he starts feeling warm again even as his fingertips run their reach over the blanket’s hem over and over again.

”Comfy?” Doctor Ziegler asks him, setting herself a small nest in the opposite corner of the couch as she speaks.  
She climbs in, throws her socks on the floor and pushes her bare toes under his butt as she settles in. He can’t help the smile clinging to his lips as he closes his eyes. When she’s still, her pose mirroring his, their backsides are touching, and she's warm and soft and reassuring there beside him.  
”Think you can get some sleep?”

”I am sure of it,” Genji promises her.

”Good,” she says, and he listens to her yawn again, ”then - Athena, turn off the lights, would you?”

Behind his closed lids, Genji senses the room dimming to darkness. The air conditioning still hums above them and the radio on the other side of the room is playing a pop tune; all in all, it seems a terrible place to fall asleep in, but he prefers it to the silence and loneliness of his own bedroom without a doubt in his mind. He falls asleep quicker than he would have expected, the crinkling of Angela’s toes against his thigh a steady reminder that even like this, at least he’s still got friends to have a sleepover with.

 


End file.
